Serpentine

I was caught up in the moment
We were alone and you seemed to harness the light
Even though I felt cold inside
When you told me it would be alright
I had given up control and
I didn't focus hard enough to see the warning signs
Your heart is serpentine.

- From "Serpentine" by Disturbed.

Chapter One: Predator

South Dakota June 18, 1997

Reba looked out of the back seat window at the scenery as it whooshed past. She held her doll, Maggie in her arms, tightly. The land was golden in the dimming light of the setting sun. The sky was a rainbow of blues, red, violets and gold. She made a mental note to duplicate such a sky later on with her finger paints. She hoped her new foster parents would let her paint. Some of the fosters she had before wouldn't. They didn't want her messing up their expensive leather furniture and imported rugs.

"Are we almost there?" She asked the woman that was driving. Her voice was soft and timid.

"Almost, sweetie. Mr. and Mrs. Conner live out in the middle of nowhere, don't they?" The lady laughed, smiling at her, kindly.

Reba didn't laugh. She shivered slightly when the woman called her sweetie. She didn't like that. Her birth mother called her that. Where was her mom now? She wondered. She hadn't the foggiest idea. More than likely, she was still where she had left her, past out drunk on the bathroom floor, with her head halfway in the toilet.

"You should have lots of fun out here, on the Conner's ranch. There's lots of animals to play with and land to explore." Said the social worker, trying to cheer the little girl up. It didn't seem to be working. Reba looked at her blankly, gripping onto her doll for dear life, as if she were afraid someone would take it away from her. "They have a couple of other kids too, a boy and girl. Maybe you and their daughter can play dolls together."

"Maybe." Reba said in her little voice. Her expression didn't change.

The social worker sighed heavily, as her eyes returned to the gravel road ahead. She had come across children like this before in her sixteen plus year career with Child Protective Services. These kids had seen and experienced too much pain in their short lives, mistreated by their own parents, being taken away and shuttled from home to home, never really feeling like they belonged anywhere. Little Reba was only eight years old and already she looked like a kid who'd been in the system ten years or more. The Conner's wouldn't be able to keep her for very long. They were only filling in until a more long term placement could be found. The girl probably wouldn't even have time to unpack before she moved her again. Reba must have known that.

A young doe bounded into the gravel road, only inches in front of the car. The social worker swerved to miss her and slammed into a fence post. Her ears rang with the gnashing of metal. Thankfully, she hadn't been going that fast. The front of the car was bashed like hell, but the air bags didn't even deploy.

"My god, are you okay, Reba?" She asked, looking back at the silent child, panic stricken that the girl wasn't whimpering or anything.

Reba stared, wide eyed, out of her window. Her small mouth hung agape.

The woman turned her head to see what the girl was looking at. A heard of deer scrambled out of the woods, running like mad, across the road and bounding over the pasture fence. She counted them as they ran away, seven, twelve, twenty four, thirty eight. She'd never seen so many dear at once.

"What are they running from?" Asked Reba.

The woman watched the final deer run across the road and bound away. As it passed the blue Volvo, she saw that it's eyes were nearly bulging out of it's head, it's ears swiveled restlessly, as if it were trying to hear something, but didn't know which direction the threat lay in. "I have no idea." She answered the child. She rolled down her window and sniffed at the air, thinking maybe there was a forest or brush fire somewhere in the woods that surrounded the ranch. She couldn't smell any smoke. All she could smell was the scent of cow and horse manure. "Maybe it was a bear or something." She reasoned, as she rolled the window back up.

She restarted the car and backed it off of the fence post. She thanked the good lord, that it was still running. There was still two miles to go, before they got to the house and she didn't want to risk running into whatever scared those deer senseless.

As soon as the car pulled into the driveway, two children ran out to greet them. Two raven haired children with olive toned faces and bright, brown eyes bounced outside of the car door, yelling words of welcome.

The girl retracted from the door, startled by the children's' enthusiasm.

"It's okay, Reba. They just want to say hello." The social worker reassured her. The woman got out of the car and told the children to calm down a little. She didn't want them to scare Reba further. She opened the door for the child and helped her out of the car.

The children, studied the girl carefully, as she got out. She was tall for her age and was pretty thin and gangly. She wore her long, stringy blond hair pulled back in a ponytail. Wisps of it fell around her ears. She seemed shy. She kept her green eyes averted from having contact with their own. She nibbled at her bottom lip nervously. The hands that held her doll against her chest, shook a little.

"Hi, I'm Charlie. This is my sister, Jenny." Said the older boy, with a smile. There were quite a few gaps. It made him look funny. "What's your name?" He asked, enthusiastically.

Reba guessed he was a year older than she was, but she was a little bit taller. The girl was maybe six or seven. She was a whole head and a half shorter than her. She was a cute little girl, with a baby's cherub face and large brown eyes, that made her look like a doll. Hesitantly, she reached out trembling hand. "I-I'm R-Reba." She stuttered. The boy shook her hand with too much force, yanking it up and down. It didn't hurt though.

The little girl gave her a big hug. "I like your doll." She said.

A man and woman came out then. They were both pretty average looking. The man's brown hair was thin now, the top of his head was bald, so he hid it under an old cowboy hat. He wore his plaid shirt tucked into his jeans. The legs of the pants were stuffed into a pair of beat up boots. A shiny, silver buckle gleamed at his waist. His wife looked pretty, even in middle age. Reba thought she could be Native American. Her skin was russet brown and her cheekbones were beautifully pronounced. She wore her black hair pinned back. The mannish clothes she wore didn't do her justice. Her attire wasn't much different from her husband's. They smiled at her, as they approached.

"Hi, Reba. It' s so good to finally meet you." Said Mrs. Conner, bending down to meet her eye to eye.

"Welcome to the ranch." Said Mr. Conner, wrapping his arms proudly around his children's shoulders.

"Thank you." Squeaked Reba, her large eyes staring blankly at the dusty ground.

"Here's her suitcase." Said the social worker.

Mrs. Conner stood up and took the pink suitcase from her. "Thank y-" She stopped, as her eyes shifted to see the smashed in grill of the car. "What on earth happened?" She asked.

The woman scratched at the back of her head. "Strangest thing I've ever seen. This deer jumped out in front of the car and I swerved to miss her, ended up plowing into one of your fence posts. Then we looked back and a whole heard of them were running across the road. There must have been near forty of them. I've never seen deer stampede like that. Never even seen a group that big."

Mrs. Conner gave a nervous glance at her husband. "The animals around these parts, act a bit odd at times. Thank God, no one got seriously hurt."

"Yea." The social worker sighed. "Well, I better be getting back. It's a long drive back to the city. She pat Reba reassuringly on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself, kid." She looked back up at the adults. "I'll give you a call, once I find another placement for her." She turned around and went back to her car.

Reba watched sadly as the woman pulled out of the driveway. She hated this part, being left behind in a different, alien world. She felt a warm hand take hers. She looked up into Mrs. Conner's dark eyes.

"Come along, supper's almost ready. I made venison and rice and gravy and corn on the cob. Have you ever tried venison?" She asked.

Reba shook her head. "No. What's that?"

"Deer." Replied Mrs. Conner. "It's really delicious."

Predatory eyes scanned the forest. He could see them. The deer. His mouth watered at the thought of the meal to come. His feet fell silently on the brush, as he slunk towards them. He could feel the brittle twigs and leaves beneath his feet, yet they did not snap nor rustle, as if he held no weight, as if he wasn't even there. His eyes settled on the big buck, standing only two feet from him. It's impressive rack, decorated it's head like a king's golden crown. He ate away at the dry grass, oblivious to the predator edging towards him, while his mate and fawn guzzled water from the spring. The predator had already killed several deer that night, yet the ache of thirst at the back of his throat remained. It never really went away. He took his stance, his body low, crouched near the earth, his legs coiled like a spring, ready to strike. The buck's head lifted. It's ears swiveled back and forth. The predator smiled knowingly. The deer knew he was there. He could feel him. That sudden drop in temperature. The chill running up and down his back, making each hair of his fur stand up, was a sign of coming death. Yet, the deer stood there, stupidly, trying to spot whatever it was that was stalking him and his family. He would not be able to see him. They never saw him. The predator only showed himself to those he chose. The deer would not see him, until it's last breathe had been drawn out. The predator chuckled. To the buck, it sounded like leaves being blown in the wind. The air was arid, in the summer heat, yet the deer's breath began to show, like smoke puffing out of his nostrils. The cold chill worsened, froze his bones. With a rattling hiss, the predator lunged at the deer. He grabbed hold of him, it's sharp nails digging into the beast's flesh. The buck let out a bellow as the predator ripped into his throat with his sharp teeth. The predator sucked away at the deer's essence, devouring it's life force with satisfaction. The deer crumpled onto the forest floor, letting out one final death bellow. Succeeding in the kill, the predator threw back his head and screamed with victory. The whole forest shook with fright at the unnatural sound.